


Mary Had a little lamb

by Kithas



Series: Kithas' Horror short stories [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 01:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithas/pseuds/Kithas
Summary: Mary had a little lamb. Its fleece was white as snow. But Mary also had a lot of problems, and when she surfed the net and found instructions for this dark ritual, she know she would end playing the Game. Trying to get a twist in the classic creepypasta!





	Mary Had a little lamb

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Escondite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462418) by [Kithas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithas/pseuds/Kithas). 



The knife made a tearing noise, going out of the stuffed animal after it slit it open. Mary looked at her dear suffed lamb, with her since so long. There, open, with its plush guts half out. She knew it would do his part. She filled it with rice, also introducing some previously cut hairs. Then, according to instructions, she closed it, leaving the crimson thread crossing its plush chest.  
"Okay, Dolly", said the teenager, petting affectuously the stuffed lamb, "That's it". Then she looked away, towards the sheets in which she did print out the instructions. After a bold " _ **Do not attempt this under any circumstances**_ " warning, there were every step needed to complete the ritual. She sighed, looking at the doll. She had always liked it. It gave her support, silent support, during bad times. And now... Now it finally was the moment which it seemed to have been created. When she saw those instructions in a dark place on the Net, she knew she was meant to put them to work.  
Obviously, whe had her time to think about it. It was very dangerous, so she couldn't half-ass it. She had to do it till the end. But something, deep inside her, knew it was the only way she could be happy. Since the moment she read the instructions, she knew she would do it.  
It wasn't easy finding the moment: Being alone when starting the ritual, she had to time it perfectly if she wanted to get things done. If her... "father", John, discovered her before she could end it, everything would have gone to waste. Consecuences would be dire. But she had to do it. And, finally, she got it. Saturday night, John was out for drinks, like he always did, and Mary, at last, had all the ingredients she needed to complete the "recipe":  
Rice, enough to stuff a doll. Needle and crimson thread. A sharp-edged knife from the kitchen, the sharpest she could get. The tub on the bathroom, full of water, and the hiding room at her bedroom, with the salt water cup. The worst one was the stuffed doll. She didn't want to at first, but she understood it had to be like that. It had to be dolly the one who did it. It was the only way the ritual would be effective. And she wanted it to be the most effective. She needed it to.

"Three o'clock in the morning", she mumbled, looking at the wrist watch. She cleared her throat, and looked at the lamb, button eyes, red seam crossing its chest. "Dolly..." She looked at it dearly at first, but hardening her eyes. "Look at me. I am Mary, and I am the first it". Once. Twice. Thrice. She was it. It has begun. Trying to avoid trembling, nervous, she took Dolly to the bathroom, feeling the oppresive silence around her. So peaceful... She usually enjoyed silence, but know, it seemed like the calm before the storm. Like a graveyard just before a zombie apocalypse.  
Once the stuffed lamb was floating in the water, Mary went out the room, with her knuckles white around the kitchen knife. Feeling a shiver through her spine whie switching the light off, thinking about the doll floating in the darkness. One by one, switched every light on the apartment off, until she was the only one around, with her little flashlight, walking to her room faster than she would admit to herself. It was the safest location on the house. The one she had used more often to hide, the one she trusted more. She closed the door, went up to her hiding place, and waited. Next step was simple, but still... "Everything starts now...", she swallowed hard. She had to be determined, or else everything would end up going horribly bad. Mary looked at the sheet. the warning, the instructions for ending the summoning ritual, and sighed. She pushed a button on the remote, and the little television, stolen from John's room (after he went out) was turned on, with static all over the screen. There in the empty room, in the empty apartment, it was eerie, creepy, and she wished it would go as fast as it could. Mary closed her eyes, gripped tighter the knife, and counted to ten.  
"After counting to ten with your eyes closed, return to the bathroom with the edged tool in your hand", said the paper sheet.

And now, the athmosphere had clearly changed. Mary never boasted about having any kind of extrasensorial perception or sixth sense, but the change was evident. The previous calm silence, the "it's not too late yet" silence from before, had shifter into another silence. Into a "You're not alone" silence. Her arm hair stood on end, and she entered the bathroom where the doll kept floating, facing her. She swallowed, making herself near. Mary had a bad feeling about this.  
But that was the point, wasn't it? Feeling something else, someone else, was exactly what was expected to happen. Or maybe it was all in her mind? Maybe it was all suggestion... But no, it wasn't the moment to stop acting. It was the moment to take Dolly, no thinking, and stab it with the knife. "I've found you, Dolly!", she said, noticing the stuffed skin tearing apart again under her knife. "You are the next it, Dolly!", she said, and, after taking it to the counter. Leaving the knife near the stabbed doll, she broke running.  
The more important moment, of the night, and Mary stormed into her silent room, curling up into her hiding place under her bed, taking down the bedding around her to hide completely from view, carefully to not spill the saltwater cup by accident. The screen still showed static, but then it flickered, and flickered again. No pattern, no rapid flickering. Just flickering as if the signal was going off, as if there was something interfering with the signal. No maddening images, no alien messages, nothing actually scaring. Something it could be blamed into the satellite or the waves... If it wasn't for the madness Mary had just done.  
She opened the door, the showed them a way to her reality, giving them her dear stuffed lamb as a sacrifice. She defied them to a game. And now, she waited. Curled up under her bed, she waited, looking at the screen, which between static showed Mary part of the plot of a cartoon series. That asian girl with a monster inside her, a chinise hired killer, and the leader, a spirit-bending girl. She almost smiled remembering the girl's antics, how she had identified with them, how she had taken the idea of using spirits from her.  
She was also alert, keeping an eye on every change on the room, every not expected noise, movement, light... But it wasn't any. It wasn't anything on her room, or on any place in all the apartment. "It's because ghost do not need to step like everyone else", she thought. Or maybe, as part of her said, the stuffed toy was still there, on the counter of the badroom, broken and unmoving. Because toys don't move by themselves.  
But, in any case, Mary didn't move. She kept hiding, looking at the flickering episode, pretending she didn't notice the flickering, the didn't get the slightly distorted audio. She was playing with fire. She was risking everything. It better pay off.  
And then, when the screen was already showing the credits, there was a change. The apartment's door opened. Her blood rushed.

"Mary?" the male slurred voice asked, from the hall. "Are you there, little rascal?" The voice walked unevenly to the kitchen, while Mary kept quiet, as quiet as her rushing heart allowed her, adrenaline being pumped through her veins. Television with no audio, lights off. "Damn brat, she just went to bed without making dinner... No respect for her father at all..." A silence, brief silence, and then the sound of a glass breaking into pieces. "What the hell, you scared me, you son of a bitch!", she heard John said, more hesitant than he would admit. "Who the hell put you up there? Was it you, Mary?"  
She felt like going very fast, like when you're going on a racing car and stick your head out the window. Adrenaline pumped through all her body, her mind realizing she was right all that time. It worked. It actyually worked. "What the...? Huh? WAIT!" She could imagine her "father" stepping back, scared, but she couldn't imagine what was he looking at. She couldn't piece the whole scene. That's why she couldn't anticipate that sound. A bland sound, like when you're cooking steak. A sound like a knife stabbing meat, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. A scream of terror, the scream of life fleeing the chest of a man. John called her, John shouted her name. He yelled for her to run, to get help, but his words mixed with the gurgles and bubbling of all the blood probably going out of her mouth. Mary felt like in a trance, like a dream made true. Jut there, under her bed, hiding from a demon, a demon her "father" did not know about. He just had come home from the pub and stepped into the wrong place, the place where a bloody killer spirit was possessing her teen daughter's stuffed toy. And he did suffer his punishement. "How does it fee?", she asked him in her thoughts. "How does it feel to be punished?".

Mary waited till whe was sure there were no more sounds after that, and then, just then, she let herself slowly out her hiding. She stil trembled when she tooke her saltwater cup with her, and struggled to breathe normally. The spirit had already taken its victim. It had been terrible, a disgrace, but, luckily to her, it had already happened. Carefully, still not completely out of danger, she opened the door to her room, paying attention to every move in the corridor. Walking dragging her feet, Mary tryed to be the most discreet and silent she could. The last thing she needed was the spectre being still hungry. But, luckily, nothing stood up in the path to the dining room, and when Mary switched on the lights, she confirmed the big round object in the floor was actually John's body, lifeless, with the knife sticking up a big dark pool on his chest. She felt chills looking at him like that, like he wasn't anything else but a thing, a giant meat doll. Something that didn't deserve any respect, like he didn't deserve in life. "Die", she touched up the corpse with her slipper. "Do the same you made mom do. She went mad when she married you, you made her kill herself. You killed her! You deserved to die after letting her die like that!". He deserved it. He deserved it, the big ol' bastard. She was happy to be able to think that plan, that macabre game which ended with her step-father's death. She had timed it so well... Now, his soul would be on his way to hell, thanks to the devil at whose hands he was killed.  
The thought of hands made Mary look at John's hand with the beer he had just taken, still closed.  
That detail, little but very important, was what tipped her off: Her stepfather wen't to the kitchen to grab a beer, and was just there when he found the doll. She felt a shiver go throught her spine, and looked around her.

Swallowing, feeling uneasy, she stood up again, turning to the door. And, by the door, a little stuffed lamb waited for her, button-eyed, a crimson thread crossing its chest, and black stuff pouring from the earlier stab. With a second kitchen knife on it's little cute paw.  
_"I found you!"_  
The shock made the saltwater cup fall, and when it hit the ground, it broke into pieces, spilling it's content into the floor.


End file.
